


Intimations and Intimacies

by unicornsandbutane



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Anal Sex, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, First Time, Lingerie, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 22:24:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3305579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicornsandbutane/pseuds/unicornsandbutane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daskingu challenged their followers to make them blush. S’pose I can’t back down from these, huh? </p><p>The Medic is desperate to get the Heavy’s attention. He thinks maybe a little piece of intimate apparel might help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intimations and Intimacies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kingu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kingu/gifts).



All through dinner, it was nearly unbearable. He shifted in his seat and glanced toward the Heavy, still engrossed in his meatloaf and boiled carrots. The Medic turned back to his own plate and surreptitiously scraped the glutinous ketchup crust off of the rubbery meat substance and poked at it with his fork.  Any time he shifted, he could feel it, intimately close, making a flush climb his throat. His collar felt tight, and restrictive, and he wanted nothing more than to strip it off and… and. Another quick look showed the Heavy pushing clumps of meat into the doughy instant potato mash. He leaned forward in his seat and felt sweat roll cold down his back before soaking into his shirt. It only served to remind him of the many layers he wore, and what he was hiding under them, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal… everything. He hoped it would work.

Dinner dragged on, and when the Engineer surprised them all with a freshly-baked apple pie, he nearly tore out his hair. He hardly had appetite for pie. His appetites were for something much more, how should he say,  _substantial_. He struggled through a small, polite slice of pie, feeling warmer by the moment. It was ridiculous. Just a simple little thing, but it had chills running up and down his spine. Truly, this was a last-ditch effort, and he cursed himself for being desperate enough to go to this extreme but. You know what they say about desperate times.

Finally, when the plates were cleared and the Sniper had drawn the short straw to be tasked with the washing-up, the Medic caught up with the Heavy in the hallway. He’d rehearsed this a thousand times in his head, but when the intense blue on the man’s eyes was turned on him, all of his words left him.

“I wondered, that is, Herr Heavy, if you would be so kind I— Could you accompany me to my, my surgery? I… I might require your assistance with, with something. It’s, not anything to worry about, I assure you, just a little— well, I mean it’s perhaps more of a pressing matter than I, well. Would you? Could you please?” He realized his hand still lingered on the vast expanse of the Heavy’s forearm and he quickly stuffed it behind his back. The Heavy laughed.

“Is no problem, Doktor. Aperture for ceiling-mounted medigun is loose again, yes? You hold, I screw.”

“Ah. Yes, I. I hope so.” The doctor pulled at his collar and rushed toward his infirmary. Every step reminded him of the secret hidden beneath his lab coat. 

When the doors closed behind them, he tried to be discreet about setting the latch. He wasn’t. The Heavy raised an eyebrow at him and leaned against the gurney. 

“What is this all about, Doktor?” 

The Medic watched the Heavy cast his eyes at the overhead medigun, and how securely it had been fastened to the ceiling last time. Though, technically, even the last time was a set-up, a chance for the Medic to watch the Heavy lift all that machinery. He cursed himself again. 

But, if the Heavy couldn’t see through those obvious gestures, he’d have to try something even  _more_  direct. 

“Well, it’s… I…” All plans for directness seemed false and hackneyed. The Heavy’s stare bore into him and he took a deep breath, summoning his battlefield courage. He’d faced down murderous mercenaries and thesis boards. He could handle this one man. This one, huge, towering, fierce, muscular, brilliant, nigh-indestructible man. He licked his lips. “Perhaps it’s best I show you.”

His gloves went first, pulled free and laid across the countertop while the Heavy watched. Next, he unbuttoned his lab coat, and shook it off his shoulders, and down his arms. This, he hun on a peg by the door. Then his tie, unknotted and pulled free from his brightly blushing neck. He brushed the spots of talc from his fingers from the red silk before hanging the tie with his coat, and, slowly, untucking his shirt. The Heavy’s gaze did not waver. He started from the bottom button, and inch by inch, approached the top. When the shirt hung open, leaving him in his undershirt, he searched the Heavy’s expression for any sign as to the man’s feelings on the matter. Nothing. He flung the shirt across a chair and screwed his courage to the sticking point to pull his belt free from its loops. He unbuttoned his trousers and pulled his undershirt over his head. That’s when the Heavy finally moved. His eyebrows shot up and he stood straighter, eyes glued to the doctor’s hips. For, just there, barely visible and peeking out from behind the Medic’s crisp, regulation trousers, was a slip of red satin, and a trim line of black lace.

“Doktor, what…?” He took a step forward, one huge hand hanging in the air, but stopping just short of actually touching the Medic’s bare flesh.

“I think you know what it is,” the Medic intoned, trying to keep his voice even.

“Yes,” the Heavy whispered, and a thrill went through the Medic that tingled in his toes. 

“Would you…” He swallowed, and steeled himself again. “Would you like to see more?”

The Heavy looked up, and met his eyes. His mouth hung slightly open and a blush sat high on his cheeks. He nodded once, and the Medic drew his hands away from his own body, and opened his arms in invitation.

The Heavy was on him in less than a second, cupping the doctor’s head in one hand and his package with the other. When the Medic gasped, the Heavy met him on an open-mouthed kiss, and the doctor sank into him, moaning, pushing his hips to meet the giant’s hand even as he was backed into the counter, and bent backwards over it. Hungrily, the Heavy forced his hand into the Medic’s open slacks, feeling those silky panties for himself. 

He broke their kiss only to tug his fingerless glove off with his teeth, before shoving his hand back in, between the bite of the Medic’s overtaxed zipper, and the heat of his swollen cock. He mouthed his way along the doctor’s neck, licking up sweat and panting harshly.

“How did you know?”

“What?” The Medic was dizzy, and it was a great effort just to hook his thumbs into the waistband of his own uniform trousers, and attempt to push them down. His arms felt useless and weak as he struggled against sweat friction, and the insistent press of the Heavy’s body against his. 

“How did you know about… how I feel about. Men. In, eh.” He waved in the air, seeking the English word and coming up with nothing.

“I didn’t. I just wanted  _you_  to know how  _I_  feel about. Ah. About you.”

The Heavy stood back, and for a moment, the doctor feared the worst. But then the Heavy’s confusion melted and he leaned forward, speaking in hushed tones:

“Doktor, you? For  _me?_ ”

The Medic could only nod, and expected, perhaps another kiss. He didn’t expect the Heavy to drop to his knees in front of him, or for the giant to wrench his uniform pants down and bury his nose against the straining satin. 

“ _Ach, Gott!_ ” he exclaimed, nearly swallowing his tongue when the Heavy’s mouth opened against the tiny scrap of lingerie, and he could feel his breath through the material, how hot and moist it was. Then it was the giant’s tongue against the cloth, licking slow and even over his cock, painfully hard almost since he’d donned the minute garment, thinking about how he’d look, and what he craved the Heavy to do. He bit his knuckle and groaned, trying not to close his eyes, but to instead memorize every detail. The Heavy,  _his_  Heavy, on his knees on the surgery floor, pressing the wet flat of his tongue against the brilliant red of these tawdry panties, which, he would admit, were not made with his measurements in mind. They pulled away from his body, the leg holes gaping, and the lace curved up and over his stiff cock with obscene delineation. The Heavy was dampening the cloth, making it dark, making it cling more closely to his skin, and  _oh god_  the way it felt, to have the Heavy’s tongue tracing his shape through the satin, with his thumbs rubbing circles on the Medic’s thighs and his huge fingers gripping his ass where the lace gave way to pale flesh. A finger dipped under the elastic, there, and he sucked in a breath, impatiently brushing hair and sweat from his forehead, and pushing his glasses up his nose. That finger was joined by another, and another, until most of the Heavy’s hand had slipped in under the stretchy material to grope at the Medic’s ass. He swallowed thickly and tried to control the shaking of his thighs.

“Ah, oh, oh  _Heavy_ , I, OH—!” The Heavy’s other hand had strayed in the other direction, and he’d allowed his thumb to slide into the gap where the garment’s leg hole pulled up and away from the Medic’s body. His rough thumb brushed the Medic’s balls and he jumped, clapping his hand over his mouth as his boots skidded on the floor. “ _Please_ , let me… let me do something for you. I’m… I’m too close already.”

“Doktor is close?”

“ _Ja_ , since I pulled these on this morning I could not help but think—“

“This morning?!” The Heavy sat back on his haunches, eyes wide. “All through battle, and team meeting, and dinner you, you wore—  _this?_ ” He snapped the elastic band for emphasis, and the Medic hissed. “All day long, you wore sexy panties? You ran, healed team, sat next to me, with  _these_  under your clothes?”

“Well. Yes?” The Medic didn’t want to be berated for irresponsible conduct. He was too hard and too ready. 

The Heavy leaned against him, and groaned, and the Medic felt it in his bones. “Doktor. You must promise me you will never wear sexy panties to battle again. I could not take it. I could only look at you, and wonder, and I can not beat baby men when I am thinking like this. Look, you see? Is no good for fighting.”

And the Heavy sat back, and the Medic could see how hard the man was, how his uniform pants tented. The Medic licked his lips and found his mouth watering, and began listing in his mind all the terrifically depraved things he wanted to do to this man. He began by kicking off his boots and letting his trousers fall to the ground. when he stepped out of them, the Heavy took in the thigh-high stockings, and the little clasps that secured them to the Medic’s panties. Already, he was picturing the man in a full garter belt and barely-there nylons, maybe with nothing else, or an enticing half-corset, or, even a full corset— with the Medic’s broad chest, he could imagine the way his nipples would peek out from over the boning, and how beautifully his chest hair (a delicious mix of black and silver) would contrast with a nice cream colour. Were these the only panties the Medic owned? If so, could he be persuaded to try on more? If not, god help him, the Heavy thought he could die and go to Heaven and expect to see nothing but the Medic in an endless parade of lacy little nothings, for the rest of eternity. 

The Medic knelt down to join him, and approached him on all fours. He thought that augmented megababoon heart in his chest might just burst, as he watched satin and lace pull across the doctor’s perfect ass, watched it shift as the Medic crawled towards him. He lay on the floor, watching, and when the Medic straddled his hips and lowered himself down, he could barely contain himself. Watching the Medic’s package, barely contained by the cloth, settling against his own was nearly enough to break him. He’d told nobody about this kink, not to speak of indulging it. This seemed too good to be true. And the Medic was terrifyingly gorgeous, like this.

With very little prompting, he ripped his shirt off over his head, and shimmied clumsily out of his trousers. His shorts went with them, and he forced his boots and socks off so he lay utterly naked on the tiles, while the Medic kneeled over him in his stockings and panties. Slowly, he settled again, and the Heavy sucked his lip into his mouth when he felt the slide of satin against his cock, the tickle of lace against the head. The doctor bucked forward, and back, forward, and back, grinding their cocks together with the satin between them. The Heavy suppressed a shudder, and placed his hands once again on the doctor’s hips.

“Oh, Heavy. You are better than I could have hoped! Of course, I’ve seen you nude before, but not like  _this_ ,” and he wrapped his hand around them both, gripping the panties as well, and stroked them roughly together. The satin and lace bunched, and rubbed the giant so intimately, and his toes curled. 

“Doktor, please, let me—“ one of his hands pushed down the back of the Medic’s panties, his middle finger brushing the doctor’s asshole.

“ _Yes_ , please, Heavy! I’ve wanted for so long.” He turned toward the counter again and opened a drawer, removing a tub of vaseline. “One moment, I can just,” he opened the jar and set it nearby, scooping a dollop and smoothing it over the Heavy’s cock. It was easy enough to simply pull the panties to the side, lean just so, and sink down until his ass met the Heavy’s pelvis. For a moment the just breathed, and the Heavy stroked his hip.

“Just like that?” the Heavy wondered at this. 

“Trust me,” the Medic said, panting, “I’m a doctor.” With a small smile, he pulled himself up, and forced himself back down again. It was so much better than his fingers, or the large, ahem, ‘facsimile’ he’d shamefully crafted, several months into his overwhelming infatuation. Perhaps he should have allowed for a little bit of stretching, he thought, wincing as a lance of pain went up his spine, but, no, that also was good, and he placed his hands on the Heavy’s, and began to beg.

“Fuck me, please Heavy, I want all of your strength!” And he meant it. The harder the Heavy bucked up into him, the more he wanted. The Heavy gripped his hips, holing the panties out of the way, and began to push the doctor’s body down even as he forced his way up. “Oh! Ja, Heavy, so long, so long I have, wanted this!”

“Me too, Doktor,” the Heavy rumbled. He felt the satin hooked around his thumb, and the Medic’s firm ass beneath his fingers, He was tight, and hot around him, and he moaned each time he pushed his way in. When the Medic reached down, and began to palm himself through the panties, the Heavy was lost. He doubled his pace and the Medic threw his head back, broken sounds pouring out of him as he fucked his fist and the sleeve of satin. 

:Heavy, please, I am so close,” and the  Heavy snapped the elastic waistband of the Medic’s panties over his ass, and the doctor yelped, and bent double, and came, hot and thick, into the smooth fabric at the front of the panties. He felt it, soaking into the satin and the lace, staining the garment forever. He pulled his hand away, breathing heavy, and the giant got one look at the wet spot blooming across the Medic’s panties, and he clawed into the doctor’s ass and came, growling, hoping to one day come across Medic’s panties along with him. 

The doctor slumped forward to lie across his chest, still speared on the Heavy’s cock. Soon enough it would soften, and it would be easier to slip off of it, but in the meantime he was content to rest atop this mountain of a man, breathing in the smell of their sweat. 

For awhile the Heavy enjoyed the coolness of the tile against his back, and stroked a broad hand down the Medic’s body.

“It seem we ruin your underwear,” he commented absently. He’d be sad to see them go, he had to admit.

“Oh?” The Medic sat up slowly, and inspected the rapidly-cooling wet spot. He imagined how it would look when it dried— an obscene white spot on these already scandalous panties. “I’m not really so sure,” he said, and smiled at the Heavy.

The Heavy snapped the elastic, and smiled back.


End file.
